The Shirt
by SasuNarufan13
Summary: Harry wears Draco's clothes quite a lot. It's turning into a problem. Draco's pov; birthday fic; fluff; established relationship; more warnings inside


**Author's note: This was supposed to have been posted yesterday, but I couldn't upload it for some reason. Better a day too late than never I suppose. **

**Something this relatively short shouldn't have taken me this long to finish, but I guess that's the curse of writing it during exam period *sweatdrops***

**This fic is a birthday gift for babyvfan: happy birthday, sweetheart! **

**Warnings: Draco's pov; established relationship; set a couple of years into the future; some fluff; implied mature content (for full version, please see my profile for more information); Professor of DADA Harry; Professer of Potions Draco**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.**

**I hope you'll like it!**

* * *

**The Shirt**

He didn't know when this particular … interest of his – it wasn't an obsession, definitely not – started. It was as if one day it just popped into existence and now it was all he could think about sometimes.

It was all Potter's fault, he decided quickly, because of course it was. Nearly every inconvenience in his life had been that git's fault one way or the other. This particular inconvenience was just another one to add to the still growing list.

"If you keep frowning like that, you're going to be all wrinkled before you turn thirty," said git mentioned casually, sipping from his tea and stretching out his legs across Draco's lap.

"Will not." Draco glared at him, before hastily smoothing out his face, running a hand self-consciously over his forehead. He scowled again when he caught Harry's smirk and pinched his small toe in retaliation, savouring the hiss he got in return.

"Git," Harry muttered, digging both his heels in Draco's thigh before he stretched out his legs again.

"I thought you had too much work to come over tonight?" Draco remarked; his one hand still resting on the chapter he'd been reading before Harry had strolled into his chambers and had made himself at home on Draco's couch.

"Decided those assignments could wait until this weekend," the dark haired man replied airily; his half empty cup very interesting all of a sudden judging by how he kept his gaze fixated on it.

This time it was Draco's turn to smirk when he realised the truth. "Too many students wanting their dearest professor's attention tonight?" he cooed, snickering when Harry flipped him the bird.

"They're a menace," Harry muttered darkly; his hold on the cup tightening slightly. "I don't know how much clearer I'm supposed to be that I'm not interested in them at all. You'd think after three years they would get the bloody message."

"So you came here to hide. Not very Gryffindor-like of you, is it?"

"Oh piss off," Harry grumbled. "You've got a problem with me being here?"

"'Course not," Draco murmured, but well, he kind of did have a problem with it.

Because Harry had clearly gone through his wardrobe again; he was wearing one of Draco's longer shirts, the first two buttons undone, showing a tantalising glimpse of smooth, sun kissed skin.

This wasn't the first time he wore something of Draco's and it was turning into a problem.

A big one.

* * *

They'd been officially dating for three months – officially that was, because they had first spent two months just fucking whenever they were in the mood all while trying to delude themselves into believing this was going to be some kind of passing fancy – when Harry had worn something of his for the first time.

They had just got out of the bath – being a professor at Hogwarts came with some nice perks, including a private bathroom with a large bathtub – and Draco had followed Harry back to the living room where the dark haired man had scooped up a shirt and shrugged it on. He'd gone up to sit on the windowsill – because of course, being the Gryffindor he was, his private quarters were up in the tower – only dressed in his underwear and the shirt, lounging against the glass without a care in the world.

He'd left the shirt open and he'd looked like pure sin and satisfaction personified; his hair even more of a mess than it usually was and his chest and stomach colouring dark in some places when lips and teeth had been a tad too enthusiastic. He'd looked positively debauched and distracted as Draco had been by the sight, it had taken him a bit to realise that Harry had been wearing _his_ shirt, not his own as he'd initially assumed.

That knowledge had made something stir within the blond man and when hooded, green eyes had locked onto his and Harry had beckoned him with one finger and a teasing smirk lurking around his still red swollen lips, Draco had immediately gone over, ready for a second round.

That had been the first time Harry had worn something of his and since then Draco had lost count of how many times he'd caught Harry in his clothes. Sometimes he borrowed an extra sweater during the winter if he was feeling particularly chilly – because of course the idiot still didn't remember he could just call a house elf to help him with the fireplace – or bundled himself into Draco's thick, long scarf, claiming he always misplaced his (given the general disarray in his private rooms, that was a claim Draco didn't have trouble believing).

There had been that one memorable time in which Harry had accidentally grabbed his sweater and had come down to the dungeons at the start of a class to give it back to him, leading to a naïve fifth year old Hufflepuff to wonder aloud if the house elves had accidentally switched the laundry of the professors. It was quite astonishing, really, how unobservant some people could really be. Draco didn't think he and Harry were that subtle about their relationship.

Shirts, sweaters, scarves, gloves … One way or the other Harry somehow ended up in his stuff at least once a week. It wasn't like Draco was all that bothered by it; he'd outgrown his possessive nature – for the most part anyway - and so it wasn't as if Harry borrowing his clothes irked him. It didn't make him go "Those are mine, not yours!" like he'd been wont to do when he'd still been a little kid.

It was just … Seeing Harry wearing his clothes – it left him feeling a bit … weird. Not a really bad weird, but an '_I want to snog him silly and then shag him senseless against the nearest flat surface_' type of weird. Which could be awkward at times when he came across Harry in one of the hallways and saw him wearing a sweater of his once more, all while knowing he couldn't do anything about it until at least later that night – and that was if he was lucky and neither of them were too busy with their respective classes.

So yes, his automatic reaction to seeing Harry in his clothes was a tad troubling at times, but he managed to keep a tight lid on it, no matter how many times Harry accidentally pulled on something of his. Harry ought to learn how to better keep track of his own stuff, naturally, so that he wouldn't end up borrowing another one of Draco's clothes, but overall, it wasn't that big of a deal, really.

Until it turned into one after all.

* * *

"Were we ever that annoying when we were thirteen years old?" Draco complained, slamming the portrait door shut behind him and ignoring the protesting screech of the Hippogriff painted on it.

He unclasped his cloak and threw it annoyed over the couch when he entered the living room part of Harry's private chambers. "No wonder Severus acted the way he did; I fully understand his frustration now."

Pausing his rant for a moment, he looked around, frowning when he couldn't immediately spot his boyfriend. A Tempus charm told him the other professor should already be here, though; his class having ended an hour earlier than Draco's had.

"Harry?" he called out, loosening his tie and draping it on top of the cloak.

"Bedroom!" Harry called out from behind him.

Changing directions, Draco worked up steam to start another rant. "Can you believe one of those idiots managed to spill an entire vial of Dragon Claw Slivers in his potion today? Not even Longbottom was that much of a bloody klutz and he – what are you doing?" He came to an abrupt stop in the doorway of the bedroom.

Harry turned his head away from the mirror and looked at him questioningly. "What does it look like I'm doing?" he asked amused.

"You look like you're wearing part of my old school's uniform," Draco replied blankly, eyeing the sweater, white shirt and green silver tie combo the other man was sporting. Was that actually his old uniform? The worn look of it suggested it was.

"Where the hell did you get that? And why are you wearing it?"

Harry shrugged nonchalantly and turned around completely to face him, apparently finished with admiring his mirror image. "I asked your mother whether you still had your old uniform and she sent me this."

Why his mother would even want to send over the uniform was something he'd figure out later. Now, the more important question was – "That still doesn't explain why you're wearing it."

"Oh!" Harry turned back to the mirror and gazed at himself contemplatively, nibbling on his lower lip. "Simple really. Back then the Hat insisted I'd do great in Slytherin and I got curious, I guess. Started thinking about it this week and wondered how I'd look like wearing the Slytherin's uniform." He shrugged again. "Asking your mother seemed like the easiest for this, seeing as I didn't want to waste time altering a new one."

"And so you're wearing my uniform." Draco felt like his mind was stuck on that particular bit, not allowing him to think of anything else than Harry wearing part of his school uniform.

Harry wearing his clothes again.

Harry in Slytherin colours …

"Well, yes, because that's easier." Harry spread out his hands and cocked his head to the right. "So, what do you think? Would I have looked good as a Slytherin?" Green eyes met grey ones through the mirror.

Would he have looked good as …

Something in Draco snapped. Seeing Harry standing there, half dressed in his old Slytherin uniform, looking all innocent, like he had no idea what the sight of him wearing Draco's clothes was doing to the blond man, like he was completely oblivious of the effect he had on him - un-fucking-believable.

In only three long strides he was right behind Harry, who started a bit and swiftly turned around, quirking an eyebrow.

"What, you don't like it?" he asked innocently, pouting slightly. "And here I thought you'd like to see me as - "

The rest of his sentence was swallowed up by impatient lips; the kiss so rough it had Harry flailing his hands in surprise before they landed on Draco's shoulders; fingertips digging into his shoulder blades. Draco insistently pressed forwards until the dark haired man ended up firmly trapped between his body and the mirror against the wall; his legs spreading willingly to let Draco step between them.

When the matter of oxygen could no longer be ignored, Draco broke the kiss and started attacking Harry's neck next, sucking a bruise right in the middle of it; one which only a Glamour would be able to hide. He grabbed black strands tightly and pulled at it slightly, making Harry move in just the right way to give him more room to work with.

"Guess you really like the idea of me being a Slytherin, huh?" Harry murmured, whimpering when teeth lightly bit down in his neck.

"You're a damn menace, is what you are," Draco swore and growled when he realised Harry was wearing the one buckle that remained hard to remove, no matter how many times Harry wore it. "Seriously, you're wearing this one?" he hissed and pawed at the buckle frustrated.

"What? I should have known you'd jump me the moment you saw me in this?" Harry shot back and there was something in his voice that had Draco looking up at him, instantly suspicious.

"Are you wearing my – HEY!" He ripped his hand away when the belt suddenly disappeared; a warm spark of magic fleetingly brushing against his palm.

When he looked up, Harry was just lowering his wand. The innocent look was also back on his face, which contrasted quite a bit with his pinkish cheeks and visibly expanded pupils.

"You were struggling with it; figured I'd help you out," Harry grinned and with a flick of his wrist, his wand sailed through the air and landed perfectly on top of the nightstand.

"Show off," Draco said amused.

Green eyes glittered when Harry retorted teasingly, "So I went from being a menace to a show off, huh? Don't know whether that's an upgrade or not."

"Oh no, you're still a menace," Draco told him and loosened Harry's tie. "You're a menace and a tease and a bloody show off and I don't know why the hell I put up with you."

Grinning, Harry wrapped his arms around his shoulders and hooked his left leg behind Draco's, using it to pull him even closer to him. "Because I'm a great fuck," he said smugly and his grin turned devious when he added, "And who else is going to put up with your prissy attitude?"

"Prissy attitude?" Draco scoffed, pulling the tie from around Harry's neck. "Please, like you're so perfect. All those people panting after you wouldn't even last a week with your annoying arse."

"If I'm so annoying, why are you still here?" He wasn't offended at all, just looked even more amused.

The time that either of their words were poisonous enough to hurt had long since passed.

"Because you're a great fuck," Draco smirked, parroting his own words.

"Always so romantic," Harry snickered before looking bemused at Draco who snatched his wrists and brought them above his head. "Er, what are you doing?"

"Admiring how great the Slytherin colours look on you," the blond man replied mockingly, making use of Harry's momentary bemusement to tie his wrists together with the tie and sticking the end of it to the mirror with a nonverbal Sticky Charm.

"I guess I should have seen this coming," Harry muttered ruefully and tilted his head back so that it rested against the mirror. "Unless you're going to use magic to get rid of the sweater and the shirt, I'd say you were a bit too quick with tying up my hands."

"I can't admire you in the clothes if you're not wearing them, can I?" Draco smirked; his smirk deepening when his answer made Harry purse his lips.

"You're annoying," the dark haired man casually informed him, tugging fruitlessly at the tie.

"Right back at you," Draco said cheerfully before deciding to finally get on with the most important matter as of right now: fucking his lover senseless.

Admiration needed to be shown after all.

* * *

"Har-harder!" Harry demanded, though the bossy tone of his order was nulled when he whimpered, mewling weakly when the next thrust struck his hidden spot straight on.

"You were saying?" Draco chuckled darkly, putting more force behind his thrusts. His eyes shut automatically, a moan slipping through clenched teeth when muscles clenched down tightly around him. If that was supposed to be Harry's retaliation, he was all for it.

A red flush spreading down all the way to his cheeks, eyes glowing almost unearthly, lips bitted red and swollen, Harry still had enough of his bearings to lean slightly forwards, fingers digging into Draco's back, and whisper hotly in the blond's ear, "_Harder._"

Grey eyes flashed and Draco snarled; the implied taunt firing him up even more. The taunting grin on Harry's face was quickly wiped away by a deep kiss and he could only cling onto Draco's shoulders when the blond man started fucking him harder and deeper; pulling out almost all the way before slamming back into him, aiming for his sweet spot ruthlessly every time.

He could feel the pleasure rapidly building, the waves of it spreading out throughout his entire body, lightening up every nerve, and he started moving more erratically, their rhythm lost as he chased after his climax. But not before Harry, there was no way he was going to come before his lover, so he doubled his efforts, slipping his hand between their bodies. Barely had his hand touched Harry there or Harry started trembling in his hold, moaning brokenly, his muscles clamping down around Draco as he was thrown over the edge, spilling between them, staining both their sweaters.

"C-come on," he murmured breathlessly, raising his head weakly to look at Draco.

The moment those dazed, green eyes locked onto his, Draco was gone. White flashed across his vision and he hissed, hiding his face in Harry's neck while he came, pleasure overwhelming him; his hips stuttering weakly against his arse.

They remained in that position – Harry with his back against the mirror still, his legs wrapped tightly around Draco's waist, and Draco standing on quivering legs – for a bit, getting their bearings back. A moan of disappointment escaped Harry when Draco carefully pulled out and he dropped his legs; his feet landing on the floor with a soft _'thump'_. He looked down between them, still panting softly and laughed quietly.

"We're a mess," he muttered.

Draco studied the both of them, still half dressed, their sweaters stained with their fluids and clammy with their sweat, and snorted. "Understatement," he mumbled, rubbing Harry's wrists when he removed the tie. The skin looked slightly red, but not chafed; he wouldn't need a balm for it then.

"Come on, let's go take a shower," he suggested. He was more than ready to collapse in the bed, but he knew he would be cursing himself if they didn't get clean now.

His lover nodded, looking tired, and they both shuffled into the bathroom; Harry with the occasional wince. They left a trail of sweaters – and a shirt in Harry's case – behind on their way there and after a short moment of contemplating whether one of them wanted to go back to grab their wand, they opted for filling the bathtub manually.

Harry squirted something which vaguely smelt like lilacs into the water and without waiting for the tub to be completely filled, he instantly sank into it, groaning in relief when he submersed himself into the rising water.

"Move a bit," Draco said and stepped into the tub behind him, gingerly lowering himself down so that he wouldn't slip and hit his head.

As soon as he was seated, his back against the tub's wall, Harry promptly settled himself between his legs, leaning back until his head rested onto Draco's shoulder.

"So me wearing your uniform – a winning combination, huh?" He still had enough energy left to grin, looking up at the blond with half lidded eyes.

Narrowing his eyes a bit, Draco poked his left side. "You wearing my clothes all the time – that's not just an accident or because you're cold, right?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry replied innocently, closing his eyes.

His innocent tone couldn't fool Draco, though, because Harry was the perfect picture of a Slytherin whose cunning plan had succeeded.

And Draco couldn't even be mad at that. Merlin, this man …

"You're lucky I love you," he muttered, wrapping his arms around Harry's chest and pressing a kiss on his right temple.

Harry hugged his arms and hummed. "Hm, I love you too."

* * *

Somehow, even with only two pairs of trousers, one shirt and two sweaters cleaned the next morning, Harry still managed to grab Draco's sweater to pull on when they woke up the next morning.

Draco was pretty sure he did that on purpose. He was also sure he didn't care, because Harry _did_ look great in his clothes.

He looked even better without any, though.

**The End**

* * *

**AN2: Harry and Draco ended up talking a lot more than I originally had intended LOL I hope you liked it nonetheless!**

**Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me!**

**I hope to see you all back in my future stories!**

**Cuddles**

**Melissa**

**P.S. For more information about my upcoming and posted stories, please visit my profile.**


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